


in control

by finalizer



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Post-TLJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-02 16:49:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13322379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finalizer/pseuds/finalizer
Summary: Damage control is futile when he doesn’t know what the damage is.





	in control

_eight hours after Crait_

Hux drags himself to his quarters when they dock with the Finalizer. Damage control is futile when he doesn’t know what the damage is. Everything falls apart around them; Ren standing wrecked and manic, watching from the proverbial center of the flames.

He’d envisioned it differently, all of it. His vision carries a semblance of order, while Ren’s is a grenade, safety pin undone.

Hux’s vision swims at a dangerous tilt. He stops inches away from his door and taps in the access code; then realizes Ren had followed him the whole way in malevolent silence, clinging to the shadows like some wretched specter. 

Hux spares him a glance. Ren says nothing. His face is open without the mask, but it too betrays nothing.

The lights are dim inside, pale at twenty percent. There’s a stillness about the room, with the durasteel polished and bed crisply made. The walls hum as does the whole ship, a constant buzzing audible to those who really listen.

Hux ignores Ren’s presence with the dismissive hope he’ll go away.

Ren’s lip quirks at the idea as he unabashedly skims over Hux’s thoughts, hardly bothering to hide the fact that he’s doing so. Beneath Hux’s tiredness thrums a panic raging like wildfire, lapping at Hux’s bloodstream with an intensity so violent that Ren doesn’t understand how he’s still standing.

He hasn’t slept in weeks, save for the occasional bouts of unconsciousness when his body shut down without his permission, or the few instances he’d drugged himself to sleep for the sake of clearing his mind.

Ren slinks in the darkened corners as Hux moves about: to pour a glass of something golden and glistening, to strip his gloves off his trembling hands with a practiced flourish. The greatcoat comes off, then the uniform shirt, and Hux winces as he pulls his left arm out of the sleeve.

There’s a necklace of darkening bruises around his throat, jarring against the translucent white of his skin, matching the purple shadows beneath his eyes. His identification tags hang limp against his chest, the dull steel disappearing beneath the fabric of his undershirt. He looks cold, in more ways than one.

Ren’s presence is less tolerable now that it feels like a looming threat.

“What?” Hux snaps impatiently. “What is it?”

He sounds tired even to his own ears; timid and impossibly, sickeningly weak. 

Ren continues to be the stuff of nightmares in perfect silence. He stands by Hux’s desk and watches him with a vacant expression that doesn’t betray a single inkling of the no doubt turbulent mess in his mind.

Hux doesn’t want to give a performance. If Ren’s here to assess Hux’s value as a commanding officer he’s come at the wrong time. Hux feels weightless and far too heavy at the same time.

He sits gingerly at the edge of his bed, his palm coming up on instinct to press against the left side of his ribcage. He’s curious about the bruising but he’s too tired to look. He’s always bruised easily.

The humming of the ship grows deafening in the absence of other sounds. It’s impossible to tell whether Ren is even breathing. He stands looking lost, and so terribly young, afraid and enraged and _empty_ all at once. 

Hux goes through the routine movements of reaching into the small drawer in his bedside table and tapping out two of the pills he keeps in an unmarked bottle, restocked at all times. Sleep — the conventional way, in theory relaxing — is a foreign concept, and it won’t come unless provoked. Hux appreciates the chemical calm: a few hours knocked out and dreamless. 

He’s halfway under the covers, favoring his right side, when he sees Ren move. He adjusts his cloak. It’s irrelevant and innocent, but it reminds Hux he’s not alone.

His eyes drift shut of their own accord and he thinks, distantly, that he should be afraid.

 

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally meant to be the intro to a much longer piece but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> i posted another excerpt from the draft on [twitter](https://twitter.com/finaIizer/status/950643987370729472) so check that out if u want, also [tumblr](http://esmesqualor.tumblr.com)
> 
> title from: [scary love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4n-AbC6GK1Y) by the nbhd


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